A Memory and a Truth
by trysomethingnew
Summary: Sequel to Hermione's Room, where Draco remembers everything Hermione erased from his memory after being forced to listen to her tortured by Bellatrix. After the Dark Lord is defeated, Draco looks for Hermione and attempts to find a way back into her heart
1. Chapter 1

"_It's not too late to turn back_."

The voice was an unfamiliar one. At least, Draco's inner voice never sounded like this before. He did know it though, he was sure. However it was impossible to put a face to the strong, kind feminine voice that had begun serving as his consience the last few weeks. Draco was sitting alone in his bedroom at home, staring out the window into the night. He'd been alone a lot more than usual since coming home for the holidays, without his usual crowd from school, and with his mother and father constantly in worried conference with his Aunt Bellatrix, Draco was often alone, but always being watched. Since his failure to kill Albus Dumbledore, Narcissa was even more protective of her only son.

"_You could sneak out if you really wanted. You know how. Then you could find someone to talk to about your fears_." There was the voice again, interrupting Draco's solitude.

He frowned, feeling slightly annoyed. "And where would I go? Hogwarts?" He asked aloud. "The only students there are blood traitors during the holidays. I can't talk to them, they hate me for what I've done to the school."

"_No, and you'd be watched there too. Not all of your old schoolmates are at Hogwarts, or at home_." The voice was patient and kind, not demanding in the least.

Now Draco openly scoffed. "Like who, Harry Potter?" He said the name quietly, being sure no one who might be waiting outside the room could hear. Even if I could find him-where everyone else looking has failed-I'd be killed before I got the chance to talk. If not by his own side then the Dark Lord, once he found me out-" Tears brimming in his eyes, the boy stopped, and rubbed them fiercly. There was no stopping the flood however, and for a moment Draco was forced to let out the tears of his fear and worry.

For a while, all was silent, Draco wondered for a moment if the voice in his head had left, and exhaled slowly.

"_It's not too late to turn back_." the voice said.

"Shut up!" Draco yelled into the empty room, throwing himself onto his bed, face-first into a pillow. This time he cried openly, screaming out his frustration and fear that he'd lost his mind-that he'd become just as insane as his aunt Bellatrix-until at last he fell into that deep, inescapable sleep one falls into after a long bout of crying.

and in that inescapable sleep, Draco Malfoy dreamed...

_Standing in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, dressed up as if for some party, the Hall itself was dressed up too. As if it was celebrating something with him. Couples danced around him, swirling in a pattern of elegance and distant emotion that he couldn't touch. He could recognize a few of his housemates but none looked at him, or if they looked his way, it was as if they saw through him, and were looking past him._

_A girl walked out of the crowd, who didn't separate for her, but she seemed unreal and moved with liquidity enough to maneuver around them perfectly. She wore a silver and black dress and had long black hair, and as she offered him her hand, they began to dance, and Draco could hardly breathe._

_"You are easily the most beautiful woman here." he whispered, feeling stunned. "Any other could not compare. Marry me."_

_The girl laughed, a tinkling laugh at first, but as it wore on, it became warm and strong. "Isn't it all a lie, though?" she asked, tears in her eyes even as she laughed. "None of this is real." Then Draco recognized the voice in his mind!_

_"Who are you?" He said demandingly. "How do you know me?"_

_There was the sound of a heavy switch being flipped and suddenly lights flashed in Draco's face. He flinched instinctively and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the marble floor of the Great Hall was gone, and he was standing on hardwood. The lights that shone in his face showed Draco he was standing on a grand stage, and the couples from before were gone. A voice came from the stands that shocked Draco and rooted him to the spot._

_"Well done, Mister Malfoy! What an incredible actor you are, so believable!" The person who spoke was clapping, but it sounded strange, as if one hand wasn't wholly fleshed out. The person was Albus Dumbledore._

_"And credit must go in part of the young miss, for her part as Miss Rachelle." Dumbledore said, smiling over his half-moon glasses at the witch beside him._

_She took and deep bow, then said very sadly, "It's time to remember though, remember who we are." And she bent her head forward and pulled off the black wig, revealing long, curly brown hair..._

"Draco! Draco! Wake up!" The voice sounded desperate, but the youth simply wanted to continue dreaming, to find out who the witch in the wig really was, to see the real face of the voice in his mind.

"DRACO!" The voice screamed, and the blankets were whipped off his bed. "GET UP YOU LAZY BOY!" It was his father, who, when Draco finally sat up in bed, looking at him curiously, cuffed him sharply around the ears, knocking him to the floor.

"Get downstairs now!" Lucious hissed threateningly. "We need you in the foyer. Fenrir thinks he's caught himself Harry Potter, but he's got something wrong with his face, you should recognize him."

A sense of great fear made bile rise up in Draco's throat. "And what are you going to do if it _is_ Harry Potter?"

"We'll send for the Dark Lord, of course. Then he'll do what's been needed to be done for a very long time."


	2. Chapter 2

Bellatrix was angry. It always terrified Draco when she used her angry voice. It never sounded like anything except mild annoyance, but her screaming was more calm than the way she said "Let's have ourselves a little chat, shall we?" Just then to the Granger girl.

He wanted to leave, but Lucius gave him a look that meant if he didn't stay put, he'd probably get another beating. Caught between the fear of witnessing another bloody, brutal murder and getting beaten and possibly insulting the Dark Lord if he appeared later, Draco stood, frozen to the spot. He noticed his father and mother both looked worried, but also slightly exhilirated. They had fears as well, but they were very different than Draco's. And there was a chance that Lucius and Narcissa's fears would disolve if they got the Dark Lord's approval. The young boy realized at this moment that he and his parents weren't very alike at all, unlike his earlier assumtions.

"_I could have told you that. In fact I have._" The voice in his mind made themselves known once more. Draco decided to give her a name, Rachelle, from his dream.

"_I don't know when you're reffering to Rachelle, but that doesn't change what has to be done._" He replied mentally.

The voice suddenly changed, sounding nervous, almost desperate. "_What needs to be done right now is you need to get away. You can't be here when Bellatrix starts torturing her._" She insisted.

"_I can't go anywhere, if the Dark Lord finds out I left during an interrogation of an undesirable-_" He was interrupted.

"_No, you need to get out now! If you trigger something-it could be dangerous-you can't stay-the spell-"_

And then the screaming began.

The voice in Draco's mind responded with an identical shriek. "_GET OUT! DON'T REMEMBER OR YOU'LL-_"

But suddenly Draco was filled with images and clips of voices. He was very vaguely aware of the screaming but only enough to note that Rachelle and the Granger girl sounded very alike...

_He was lying in a pile of dirt mixed wth snow, his nose bloody and Granger standing above him, hand held out with an offer of help. He'd been meeting her in secret, planning something. He made crude jokes and she looked sad, sometimes stressed._

_"Promise not to fall in love with me." She said, her eyes dancing with morbid humour._

_Draco laughed in response. "That's not going to be a problem."_

_He's actually been with the girl from his dream. He was kissing her in front of his entire House. Then Hermione was standing with him, alone, wearing the same dress and shaking her head, crying._

_"Just forget about me."_

_His suit was ruined by the downpour as he sloshed about desperately, calling out her name. "Hermione!" The ring on his finger soon disolved, and everything went gray._

_"Forget about me."_

It was hours later when the Dark Lord left, his mother was even paler than usual, if that was possible, and Bellatrix was the closest to crying she'd ever been. At first, when Harry Potter had escaped, she had simply screamed with fury and said she hoped she'd killed the nasty house-elf, or at the very least "that mudblood bitch." But Draco only felt a hollow emptiness at the thought, and he excused himself from the room to think, because now he knew exactly who the voice in his mind was.

It was his memory of Hermione Granger, the memory of the girl he'd fallen in love with three years ago. The girl he was still in love with, which was why he'd been trying to shake off Pansy Parkinson the last year and a half, because that was when the voice had begun to speak to him, when Lord Voldemort had given him the mission to kill Albus Dumbledore. When the memory charm Hremione had put on him had begun to crack with his own sanity. Draco knew even clearer what would happen if any one _ever_ realized what had just happened, and what had happened years ago.

Hermione Granger would be killed, and Draco with her. They might even make Draco kill Hermione himself, as punishment for his love, then kill him so they wouldn't chance his falling in love with a "mudblood" again. As he realized this, Draco felt his heart break with despair once more, just as it had three years ago.

**Six Months Later**

He stood in the distance, hiding behind a tree and watching the proceedings before him. Draco had only been to one funeral before, and it had been too formal to prepare him for this scene. He'd never seen so many full grown men and women crying all at once, he'd never thought he'd see it and feel such a pang of loss and sympathy. There hadn't even been a funeral for Vnincent Crabbe, who had been the closest thing to a friend Draco had most of his life, since the boy's body had been burned to ash and his family was in Azkaban, along with Draco's own father Lucius.

The Blonde man stared at the back of Harry Potter, who held the Weasley girl close as she cried. The man who had saved Draco and his mother from Azkaban, in return for her help in the defeat of Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy had fled the country, and though she'd begged her son to join her, Draco felt a strong need to stay, a need that was connected to the brunnette currently clinging to Ron Weasley.

When the body of Fred Weasley was lowered into the ground and the final words spoken over his grave, the group began to slip apart. Draco hoped Hermione would separate from Ron, so perhaps he could maybe take her aside and speak to her without anyone else noticing he was there. No matter the kindness Harry had shown his mother and in turn, himself, Draco knew if he was caught in this place, at this time, he would probably be turned into a spider and then stepped on.

His wish was almost answered. Hermione and the Ron Weasley boy stayed behind, holding hands and talking quietly. Draco moved away from the tree at first, thinking maybe he could get Hermione's attention and get her away from the boy, when it happened. A wrenching pain that made him feel as if he'd been stabbed in the gut filled Draco as he watched the two kiss. A kiss so passionate he knew he'd experienced the same kind of kiss with only one girl. The one who stood before him now.

Draco knew Hermione and Weasley had become a couple during their sixth year at Hogwarts, but it was common knowledge that they hadn't done anything serious and many assumed it was only superficial to keep the group together and to convince Ron it was alright for Potter to date his sister. _The rumours were wrong_, The blonde thought bitterly, swallowing back bile. _They really are together_. He grasped his wand tightly just then, wanting more than ever to curse Wealey into a thousand pieces. But he knew he couldn't do it. He didn't have it in him to interfere in Hermione's life now that he knew she hated him.

"You deserve each other." The young man hissed angrily, and apparated loudly right then, not caring if they heard him.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sat in the room he'd rented at The Leaky Cauldron until he found his own place, since part of his and his family's punishment had been that their Manor be repossessed and thoroughly cleared of Dark Magic before being made into a home for wizard families who had been left without because of the war. This was a stipulation Draco had agreed fully with Potter on, but infuriated his mother so much she had left the country and gone to live with her aunt in Paris. The young man had stopped caring for the Manor the day Lord Voldemort had chosen to make it his base for the war. Since then, it had been a place of loneliness and captivity, so he felt no pain in letting it go, especially to families in need. Draco was indeed a changed man. As he sat at the window in the much more modest but in no way lower-class apartment, he thought about what _hadn't_ changed.

He still thought Hagrid and Longbottom great, stupid oafs. His assets hadn't been frozen-though his Gringotts vault had been _very_ thoroughly searched and emptied of about half its contents, unlike Bellatrix's, in which all had gone into the Ministry's possession, including the gold which would go into the Manor-so he was still very, horribly rich. And he...

Draco shook his head. He knew there was more. He wasn't a complete mess, trying to figure out who he was. What was still the same?

The closest thing he could come up with was that he still hated Weasleys. Well, one of them at least.

"_But not for the same reason._"

The voice felt strange to him now. Draco felt a whip crack inside him when it spoke, as if his guts were being cruelly lashed. With every word, a new wound opened up, and the old ones seeped fresh blood. He tried to replace the pain with anger, but it didn't feel right hating the voice that represented the woman he loved, and everything he loved about her. But he could hate Ron. The feeling of hating Ron gave Draco a sort of sick relief, which increased tenfold when he actually _saw_ the Weasley with Hermione and Potter, walking down Diagon alley away from the Leaky Cauldron.

Without a moment's hesitation he pulled on a cloak and headed out, following the trio closely. There was a moment when Harry and Hermione both entered one shop, and Ron another. Draco smirked to himself and then followed Weasley.

"Well, well well." The blonde said the moment he'd entered and blocked the exit for Ron. "Doing a little shopping? What are we here for Weasley?" He didn't spit out his usual comment about hardly believing Ron could afford whatever he was there for.

Ron whipped around, glaring at Draco with intense hatred and distrust. "What do you want Malfoy?"

Draco fingered the shelves of the shop, inspecting the wares and trying to decide the answer to that very question. "I want you, to stay away from Granger." He said simply and honestly. "It's for your own good you know. She'll only hurt you in the end, betray you, make you feel-" He cut himself off, realizing maybe honesty wasn't the best policy, because Ron was puffing up like some sort of bloated mushroom.

"Watch your mouth Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about." He said through gritted teeth.

The words bit into Draco like acid. He knew it was important to keep the reality of his relationship with Hermione secret frmo his family, but a small part of him believed _she_ had confided in someone, that _one person_ might know who they'd been to each other. Sneering to cover up the sinking feeling in his gut, Draco spat back, "I know things that would make your hair turn white, you penniless lowlife!"

That made Ron lose it, just as Draco knew it would, but he couldn't help it. Ron threw himself onto the other man and began throwing wild punches that often missed, or just barely grazed him. One lucky swing hit him in the lip however, and the blonde felt his mouth fill with salty blood. The store clerk finally appeared in a panic, trying to decide what to do to stop this, when sparks flew through the air and both men were thrown back into oposite walls.

"What's going on in here!" A voice asked shrilly, a feminine, familiar voice. Draco opened his eyes dizzily and saw Hermione standing there, her face flushed in surprise, eyes wide in shock. The view of her mouth, open wide made Draco's own mouth water, and as saliva mixed with the stagnant blood in his outh it reminded him of why he was here, faced with the love of his life, and why she'd just slammed him magically into a wall.

"Go ahead and ask her yourself Weasley. If she'll tell you." Draco spat angrily once more. At this Ron almost lunged at him again, but Hermione yelled "Stop!" and he froze, glaring.

"Just stay away from her, you got that Malfoy? You don't go near Hermione, ever!"

Draco sneered. "Too late. Though I wish I had, now." His eyes softened as he looked at her, but he kept his voice from revealing how broken he felt. "I hope you had a damn good reason for wiping my memory, Hermione, because I don't take well to betrayal."

He Disapparated then, back to the entrance at the Leaky Cauldron, and ordered a very large bottle of wine be sent to his room. He spent the night trying to wash away the feeling of guilt he'd felt when he saw Hermione, wand pointing at his and then Ron's chest in turn, shocked to find the two fighting like schoolboys in the hall. He wasn't a schoolboy anymore, but he had no way to prove that to Hermione as long as her two friends surrounded her constantly. And so he drank. At one point he thought dimly about throwing himself out of the window in his room, but remembered as he was only on the second floor, he would merely be sent to the Hospital, since the fall wasn't far enough to kill him.

Suddenly, he heard a voice reciting to him;

_"I needed someone  
>Someone that I can run<br>To when I feel down  
>You are that person for me<br>I know no other  
>We wonder what's meant to be<br>And I think it's this  
>I don't know why<br>But I have this feeling  
>That only you and I can see<br>The light that shines when  
>We are together<br>My heart is telling me  
>That though I'm scared to admit it<br>You mean more to me than you think you do_

_This might be what they call love."_

Draco scowled. "Get away from me." He slurred aloud to the empty room. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

"_She wrote that for you once. you still have the locket. It's in your drawer._"

"GO AWAY!" He screamed. "Leave me to suffer in peace you damnable spirit! She never loved me!" The voice was silent, for once, and Draco felt free to cry himself into a deep sleep. While he slept, he dreamt of the poem.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: Sorry for the switch guys, I'm trying to go a different direction with this fic because it was beginning to go places I hadn't intended it ever to go. I hope this chapter will satisfy you, and I also hope you continue to read, because I do plan on writing more chapters and more often in the next few weeks. I may try to have a new chapter up a week if I can, so thank you to my loyal readers, and to any newcomers, don't be afraid to review and tell me what you think**

Hermione stood, frozen in the middle of the shop. She still could barely believe what had just happened. Draco and Ron fighting over her again, but this time, it was different. This time, it was personal, especially for Draco. Had he really remembered everything that she'd erased from his memory years ago? It must have been a very powerful Legilimens… or a very traumatic event. Hermione knew of only two wizards skilled enough to do the first, and only one of them cruel enough to perform either.

"It must have happened during the War." She muttered to herself quietly as the door opened and someone entered the shop.

"What must have happened?" Harry asked, suddenly standing beside Hermione, making her jump.

Ron brushed himself off, looking rather proud. "The jerk won't be able to heal that split lip in a hurry. You sure showed him, Hermione, though I don't know why you had to slam _me_ into the wall."

"I wasn't trying to show him anything except that you both were being childish and stupid." Hermione snapped out of her reverie and glared at him. "You almost destroyed this poor man's shop and you could have hurt someone else, if they'd been in here." She grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his robe and dragged him out of the shop. "Seriously, I can't take you anywhere." She muttered to herself.

The rest of the day she spent in silent thoughtfulness, only nodding at something Ron said or smiling when they tried to make a joke. She kept wondering when Draco had remembered what had happened between them almost four years ago—and who else knew. If she was right and the memory charm had broken during the war, the memories hadn't stopped Draco from attacking Harry at the Castle last summer, but the evidence of Hermione still being alive pointed that he neither told a soul, nor wanted to kill her. What did it all _mean_?

"Let's head to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink shall we?" Hermione piped up, snapping out of her reverie. "Didn't Ginny say she'd be there around this time?" She looked pointedly at Harry, who couldn't help but smile. Mention of his fiancée always had that effect on her best friend, and though she was incredibly happy for the two, it made her wonder why she hadn't ever had that reaction when someone mentioned Ron's name. She brushed the thought aside and led the way into the bar.

Somehow, Hermione didn't feel like drinking Butterbeer or Firewhiskey tonight, and asked Ron to order her a glass of red wine. When he returned with two Firewhiskeys and a Butterbeer, she frowned.

"I asked for wine. If it was too expensive, I could have paid for my own." She said, disgruntled at having to bring up Ron's money troubles—he'd just gotten a new job, and it was taking some time to get everything in order—Hermione's invested savings were doing rather well, and she's just got a rather nicely paying job at St Mungo's that she would be starting the next morning.

Ron went the expected shade of red around the ears. "It's not that. Tom says he just sent the last bottle of red up to a guest's room."

"Damnit." The young woman thumped her fist on the table. "Sorry, I just don't feel like a butterbeer at all. I'll go without."

"Either somebody's having a party up there, or they're very, very drunk." A familiar voice sounded from behind Hermione, and she saw Harry's face light up.

"Ginny, pull up a chair." Ron said to his sister, before she could however Harry had already done so, and she was taking a seat.

Hermione passed her butterbeer over to her best girlfriend. "Why do you say that Ginny?"

"Well, first, somebody ran down real fast and ordered a huge bottle of red wine for room two-oh-six. And then, I was up there to use the loo—since the one down here isn't exactly clean—I heard noises, from that same room. Yelling and lots of bumping around. I would say someone in room two-oh-six is having a very rough night."

"They'll have an even rougher morning if they've drunk the whole bottle." Harry agreed, nodding as if he knew from experience.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Isn't 206 one of the leased rooms? Someone didn't rent the room just to trash it in one drunken night."

"Well, at least Tom won't be left to pay for the repairs on his own." Ginny said, then seemed a bit too distracted with something on Harry's neck, then the two started giggling and kissing. Apparently it gave Ron some ideas, and he moved a bit closer to Hermione. Unfortunately she was still thinking about the red wine that had gone to room 206, and suddenly stood just as Ron was leaning in to kiss her neck, causing him to fall off his chair.

"Hey, what's wrong? Where are you going?" He asked grumpily from the floor as he watched Hermione grab her purse and straighten herself up.

"I'm going to go up to room 206. Someone's got to make sure that poor person doesn't drink themselves dead. At the very least, I can make a complaint about the lack of red wine." Before any of them could stop her, she stormed up the stairs and looked around for room 206.

When she got there, she heard voices. _Maybe they're having a party after all?_ Hermione thought hesitantly, then her eyes opened wide in shock as she recognized one of the voices as Draco's. Did he have a guest in there? As thoughts and images ran through the young woman's mind, she felt a hot flush of color rush up her face. Then she heard the female voice again, and it took a moment for Hermione to catch what she said.

"—still have the locket, it's in your drawer." It was her own voice!

She heard Draco screaming then, and his words left a deep wound in her heart. They also confused the hell out of her. _Why did Draco call the woman a spirit? And why did she sound like me? Something doesn't seem right here._ But before she could open the door to investigate, a hand tapped her shoulder and she jumped.

"Hermione, what's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost." Ginny looked concerned.

"I-I'm fine." She managed. "Whoever's in there was fighting with someone else, but one of them left, I think." Hermione shrugged, pretending like she didn't care. "I don't know what I was thinking, all this for a lousy bottle of red wine."

"Let's just go home. I'm sure we have some wine in the house, if you like." Ginny offered, putting a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulder.

She shook her head. "I don't feel like drinking anymore, but home sounds like a good idea Ginny. I'll go out front and get us a cab."

They arrived late at the house the four of them shared. Harry had transferred some of his gold into muggle money when all of them had found jobs and put the down payment on the large Victorian. Almost as big as the Burrow, but without the feeling of falling over, the inside was much like Number Twelve, Gimmould Place, except without all the curses placed on it. Harry said he felt like an early night, and a giggling Ginny agreed, but only after she had received assurance from Hermione that she was still alright. Ron wasn't as satisfied—he was rather astute when he was drunk, too bad he wasn't otherwise, Hermione thought.

"You were quiet the whole ride home. S'everything fine?" he slurred.

Hermione shook her head. "I guess I'm just nervous for my first day tomorrow. Let's just go to bed, I'm pretty tired." She smiled at Ronald warmly. "I'm sorry if I hurt you when I pulled you away from Draco Malfoy before, I-"

Ron interrupted her apology with a kiss. At first, because he was a bit drunk, she expected it to be sloppy, but it was warm and dry, and more than a little bit passionate. Ronald had never kissed her this way before, even the first time they had made love. he'd been nervous and clumsy, but an enthusiastic lover, much different from the slow gentleness Viktor Krum had treated her with her first time. She was glad that Ron hadn't actually been her first, because even with Victor's gentle care, when he'd entered her it had hurt, a lot. Hermione began to think of Viktor, and pulled away from Ron. No, she couldn't make love to her boyfriend while thinking of another man, it wasn't right.

And it wasn't just Viktor's kisses she was remembering at the moment.

Hermione yawned to cover her uneasiness. "I'm so tired, let's get some sleep Ron." She said, and lead the way to their bedroom. Ron followed obediently and quietly, holding her hand the whole way up the stairs and down the hall.

He watched her change into her nightgown as he stripped down to his underwear, and Hermione paused to look at his body once more. The office job he'd held for the last year hadn't done much to fill out the lanky body he'd developed over their teenage years at Hogwarts, he was barely as skinny as ever, with sinewy muscle from Quidditch and running and fighting during the war. Hermione noticed some old scars he'd gained over the years, ones he knew no other person had ever seen, not even Harry. It made her feel special, like the first and only person to discover a historical site. For the first time in a long time, she just wanted to sleep next to Ron peacefully, holding him close.

She crawled into bed and lifted the covers for Ron to join her, which he did with a chagrined smile. At first Hermione was a little hurt, but thought he was probably only cold, or just had a headache. "Are you all right, dear?" She asked, sincerely worried.

"I'm fine Hermione." He said, crawling into bed with her, but keeping a small distance. This didn't soothe her worry, and Hermione reached out to him.

"Come closer then. If you're cold, I will help warm you up." She smiled at Ron, pulling his body closer to his. He wasn't cold, he was quite warm in fact, and the contact made Hermione feel she was very cold herself. She snuggled up close, laying her head on his bare chest and wrapping her legs around his.

"Mmm, why are you so warm?" She asked, her fingers playing in his light dawn of chest hair. She kissed his shoulder and his neck, glad to feel his strength and presence next to her.

Her boyfriend lifted her head by the chin to his face for another kiss, and another, and another. While they kissed, Ron began to run his hands over her body, but Hermione still wasn't feeling comfortable about the attention tonight. When his hand wandered down to between her legs, she broke the kiss. "Ron, stop, don't do that."

"But you're hot, and wet, I can tell." Ron's voice still had a heavy slur to it, and he didn't stop, with one arm he held Hermione down, the other exploring her body with gentleness, and continued to kiss her, even as she struggled.

Hermione wanted to fight, but she didn't want to hurt him. For the first time in her life, she was actually scared of Ron, she realized he was actually a man, and much stronger than her physically. As far as magic was concerned, she could compete and even beat him easily. Hermione knew the last time she had felt so powerless, she'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Ron stop! If you don't stop I'll scream, and Harry'll hear!" She hissed, struggling and trying to free herself by kicking out. She felt her knee connect, as Ron yowled and rolled over, curled up.

She was horrified. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit you there, I just wanted-"

"What did you want? Your body was saying that you wanted me, so what's wrong?" He said, sounding rather pitiful.

"It's not my fault you can't listen with your ears. I said no, that I didn't want to tonight. You were hurting me holding me down, and you're a lot stronger than me, being a man where I'm smaller than you. Forgive me for not giving in to rape." She added the last part with sarcasm, but she knew that a few moments ago, that had been a real fear in her.

Nothing else was said for a long time, Ron just stared at her, looking guilty. Hermione could see tears forming in his eyes, and felt like she had said probably the most hurtful thing in the world, more than his family and money issues and his past. The thought that he would actually hurt her, the person he said he loved, had stabbed into a place so vulnerable she could feel his own pain.

"I-I'm going to sleep in the guest room tonight." She said, and left before he had time to respond.

The guest room was small, and usually was used by Ron's parents. It hadn't been used in a couple of weeks but it had been kept clean, with a few comfortable-looking pieces of art on the wall. Hermione knew neither she now Ginny had bought the portraits, and smiled when she realized Molly Weasley must have left them to make the room feel more comfortable for wizards. She wondered for a moment if any of the sleeping people had similar pieces in the Weasley's home, keeping Molly informed on what went on with her two youngest children. What would Molly say if she knew what had just transpired between Hermione and her youngest son? Would she be ashamed, frightened, angry? Molly Weasley was the kindest person she had ever met, sincere and strong as a woman, and Hermione could never forgive herself if she ever gave her a reason to hate her. Would Molly hate her for hurting Ron the way she had, with the words she had said? She had responded physically to Ron's touch, but she stood by her decision to not follow through tonight. Hermione sniffled, trying not to cry, and wished she'd thought to bring her wand with her into the room so she could conjure some hot tea. At least there was a small alarm clock in the room, hopefully this one hadn't tampered with by Arthur so that she could set it to leave early enough in the morning for her first day at her new job in the morning.

Once she'd gotten the alarm set for the morning, Hermione curled under the blankets and went to sleep. The next morning, she couldn't remember what she'd dreamed, but she felt relieved, because what she could remember was a freezing, petrifying fear.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Welcome back! Tehe not going to say much just this: it's good to be doing this again.**

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><p>The too bright light shone through the thin curtains and woke Draco long before the wake-up call he'd arranged for the morning. Bleary-eyed, he gazed around the shabby room and grimaced. The smallness of it was not enhanced by the clutter of possessions, Draco had very little of his family's fortune left to him. He'd been in this room for just about a month now, but was still used to the luxury he'd known all his life before. Soon though, he might not have even the comfort of a room if he didn't find a job, since the small bit of his inheritance money he had left was running low. Draco pulled back the curtains and looked down into the wizard's marketplace. <em>Not today, <em>he heard the ghostly reminder chime in almost on cue. _Today you have to go back, you have to find her._

He didn't bother telling the voice to go away, or to ask who the "her" he had to find. Rising out of bed and pulling on his satin bathrobe—his wardrobe was smaller than it used to be, but mostly still quality—went to the tiny bathroom across from his bed. Grateful that there was hot water running at this time, Draco stepped into the flowing shower, resenting only that the water pressure felt like he was being sneezed on from above. The hot water only lasted a few minutes, so that there wasn't steam on the mirror when Draco brushed his teeth and combed his hair. The young man was as meticulous as ever with his appearance, and began his morning ritual in full, not bothering to get dressed as he fully dried off and left the cotton towel tied around his waist.

Collecting his wand from the tiny table beside his bed, Draco waved it towards the threadbare rug that ran the length of the room. It began to shimmer and move on its own, rotating like a conveyor belt. Draco jumped on this and began to jog at what he thought was a comfortable pace for about twenty minutes, then stepped off the rug and waved his wand again, and it rolled itself into a tight roll that floated above his head. About five reps of ten pull-ups later, Draco went onto the floor for crunches. He was just finishing when he heard a sharp knock at the door.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir, you requested a wake-up call?" The familiar voice of old Tom was shaky today. "Should I have breakfast sent up?" He asked.

Draco sat up from the floor and shook his head before realizing that Tom couldn't see him. "No, I'll be eating out this morning." He said, and then remembered his manners. "Thank you, Tom." He quickly dressed in comfortable but stylish robes and headed out the door, barely remembering to lock his room in his rush.

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><p>The Rosa Lee was pretty quiet for so early in the afternoon, for which Hermione was secretly grateful. She really didn't need a large crowd distracting her from her thoughts while she waited, though it did make her incredibly aware of the door, and every time the chimes went off she glanced up to see who the visitor was. Hermione looked down into her empty tea cup, almost wishing she'd had a longer shift at St. Mungo's and hadn't arrived so early for her tea with Mrs. Weasley.<p>

"Oh, hello dear. Sorry that I'm late I wanted to pick up some last-minute things for the party tonight." Molly's familiar warm voice washed over her as Hermione looked up. Molly had several heavy-looking bags, out of one poked a long tube of wrapping.

"Oh, yes. The party, I'd almost forgotten." Hermione blushed heavily. "Um, if you want I can help you carry those," she offered.

Molly's face broke out in a relieved smile. "Oh thank you dear. It's not as easy as it used to be, the house's been so empty and I haven't needed to carry things like this as often…" she trailed off and shrugged. "Let's have a sit then, and talk. How was your first day then?"

As Hermione chatted about her day, she felt a little less nervous. The conversation moved on, but she managed to keep it away from her relationship as much as possible. About an hour later Hermione was walking with Molly to the fireplaces meant for Floo travel.

"Thank you again dear. I just wanted to make sure everything would be perfect. It'll be the first time we're all together for such a long time, without—"

Tact kept Hermione from finishing Molly's sentence for her. Instead she reached out with her free arm and hugged the woman tightly. "It'll be great. I know Harry will love it."

"I forgot to ask, that errand you ran yesterday, how did that go?" Molly pressed inquisitively, shooting a suspicious glance at Hermione.

Hermione waited until they'd come out at the Burrow before she answered. "It went fine. I don't know if we'll find anything, but it's not exactly impossible either. Memory spells can be tricky, especially to reverse." She repressed a shudder as a chill ran up her spine, accompanied by a mental image of Draco glaring at her intensely.

"I'm sure you'll be able to do it. I think it's best that you try at least. Ronald's quite excited about it, if you can believe that." Molly seemed a bit agitated, like trying to hold her breath while she was talking.

Was she hiding something? "I don't know why he would be so excited about it, he didn't say anything like that to me. Did—Did he tell you something?" She asked, whirling around to see the woman's face. Mrs. Weasley went an astonishing shade of red, almost matching her hair and making it very clear where each of her children got the trait.

"I-I don't know what you mean. Why wouldn't he want to meet your family? I-it's important to him because, well…" She faltered and went an even deeper red. Dropping the bags onto the kitchen table Hermione put her hands on her hips.

"What are you hiding, Molly?" She asked in her strictest voice, one she usually reserved for "the boys". "What's he told you that you have to keep secret from me?"

Molly let out a huge breath, and spouted her secret all at once in a rush. "Hewantstoaskyourparentsforyourhandsohecanmarryyouandtheycancometotheweddingandallyourfamilywillbethereandbepartofourfamily." Then she grasped for a chair and sat down, breathing heavily.

"Please don't tell him I've told you. It was supposed to be a surprise, he was going to propose as soon as he'd met them properly." She pleaded, her face turning fast from red to pink to pale white.

Hermione herself began to feel pale. "I-I won't say anything." She stammered, and tried to quickly recover herself. "Well, if there's nothing else you need for me, I'll just be out for a walk. Ron and Harry should be getting here soon, anyways."

"Molly righted herself, brushing away imaginary dust from her robes and smiling weakly. "I do hope you're not upset with him for planning this, Hermione. I want you to feel welcome in this family, and we don't keep secrets, not without good reason."

"I understand Molly, and I'm not upset." She lied. "I just need a few moments to-think." And she ran out the door like she was on fire.

Without even noticing where her feet took her, Hermione's mind was rushing to the most frightening place imaginable. What was she going to do? After what happened last night, and yesterday, with Draco? Oh god, Draco! Something horrifying must have happened to make him remember what her spell had erased. The exact thing she wanted to do was clear her parent's minds of the memory charm, had already been done on the one person she hoped it never would! What if they ran into him again, and he said something to Ron? This was probably the biggest mess she'd ever gotten herself into, including getting involved with Draco Malfoy in the first place. Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it. She'd always been so level-headed-at least when it came to Harry and his problems, or Ginny and hers. Why could she never be so calm when it came to problems in her own life?

Suddenly she was aware of the grass beneath her feet changing to a dirt path. She smelled the familiar scent of poppy flowers and lilac, and looked up. She was approaching the grave marker of Fred Weasley. Something stirred within Hermione when she realized she wasn't the only one who had some strange desire to come to this place so late in the day. The setting sun made her fear at first that it was Ron himself, or even Harry at the sight. The figure was darkened against the twilight, but they were definitely male-though he looked a bit short to be Ron.

"Harry?" She asked timidly as she stepped closer. The figure turned sharply-but more in surprise than recognition-and his features made it clear who she was standing with alone at this place.

"Oh my god. What are you doing here?" She hissed at him. "Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you here?"

"Well, you're here, what will you do? I didn't kill him, what's the crime?" The man replied, running his hands through his hair.

Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it right at him. "Alright Draco, what do you want? Have you been following me?"

He sighed and stretched out his arms to show he wasn't about to duel her. "If I was following you, how would I get here before you? I come here sometimes, to think. Have ever since Mr. Weasley was laid to rest here."

"Why? You hated him just as much as the rest of us. I should stun you right now for being so disrespectful." She wondered if there was any real intention behind her own voice.

Draco smirked, though his eyes never left hers. "I may not have known him, or respected him. But people change. Losing something important changes you-getting it back, well." And his smile changed to something more intense. "That'll turn your whole world around."

Hermione dropped her wand. "I don't know what you're talking about." She said. She felt completely disarmed by the look in his eyes. It was something heated, like anger-but it was stronger, and pulled at a part of her inside that had never been touched before. Without noticing it, she took a few steps closer to him, until they were only a foot or so apart.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You can stun me and torture me if you like. And you know, I'd take it all because there's nothing you can do to me that would ever hurt as badly as when I heard you scream in pain and had all of my memories crash down on me like stone walls." He closed the foot of distance and knelt his face close to hers. "And for countless days after, every single breath I took was one of shuddering fear. Every moment I was called upon I thought for sure it was to be killed. You don't know terror like the fear that you might have to watch your mother's face as your father is ordered to kill you. That you can't run, can't escape because you did this to yourself, without even knowing it, you spun yourself quite snugly into a trap that would be impossible to survive."

His eyes shone like mercury, heated to a thousand degrees. "If you hate me so much, then why didn't you kill me when I was in your house?" She asked, immediately wishing she hadn't. Draco's gaze intensified again, and the way her body reacted to it was becoming uncomfortable.

"I think you know why. It's the exact same reason you had to wipe my memory in the first place. If they'd found me out, ordered me to kill you, I would have turned on the blade myself. The memory of my infatuation with you was so strong, I would have died knowing you hated me so much you gave me to your enemies."

"I didn't do that to hurt you." Hermione blinked, tears stinging her eyes. How had a small walk to clear her head ended like this? "I wanted to protect you. The Weasley's are not the only people who lost family in the war. I didn't want you to lose yours, or your life over a silly crush. Even if you think I hated you, it's better than the truth."

There was not even an inch of air between them now as Draco reached forward and pulled Hermione to him. Before she had opportunity to fight him off, he kissed her hard, lips warm and firm, his hands folding her into his hard and muscular body. She melted into him on instinct, her body singing with electricity, her arms wrapping around his waist. He kissed her for forever, and yet it didn't seem like long enough to Hermione once he finally released her.

"Does that feel like a silly crush to you?" He demanded. "Does that feel like something I could have lived without for so long, and have it rush back to me in one movement, knocking me off my feet and out of my mind? I am in love with you and don't lie to me again and tell me I can't, or that you don't feel something between us as well!"

Her lips felt swollen, her face hot. There was that pulling again inside of her, if she looked away from those molten eyes the feeling was lighter, but once she looked back it drew her towards him again. She didn't fight it, and instead threw herself at him and kissed him again, and again. Together they fell onto the grass and kissed and held each other as if they would break apart otherwise.

The sun finally set, and with the last beams of sunlight they lay together, flushed and exhausted. When it was all dark out Hermione shot up in one movement, terrified.

"The party! Oh god I've got to go back!" She said, and searched around for her wand, which she'd dropped in the grass some time ago.

Draco handed it to her, standing up himself. "Wait, when can I see you again?"

"You can't, I'm getting married, Ron's going to propose to me soon. His mother just told me." Hermione was choking over the words, almost crying.

He grabbed her and kissed her again, and all of her fears disappeared and were replaced by the fiery passion she had felt with no one else. "Tomorrow night, ten o-clock. Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron." He said, and Dissaparated.

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><p><strong>Reviews are always welcome, next chapter asap, promise!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are you going?" The voice startled Hermione and she dropped the handful of Floo powder onto the floor. She bent over to pick it up, if only to avoid looking her friend in the eyes as she answered.

"I'm out to Diagon Alley, there's some things I have to take care of for work that I forgot about, if I hurry I can still make it before the shops close." Hermione hoped she was still a better liar than Ginny could tell.

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny asked, completely exasperated. Hermione froze, and stood up with all the powder she'd been able to collect from the floor. She felt her face go hot.

"I don't know what you mean Ginny, I was just distracted yesterday with the party and forgot about—"

But the redhead interrupted her. "You know what I mean. You've been leaving for work early and coming home when you think we've all gone to bed so you think we won't notice. Ron's been trying to keep up the secret, but he's walking around like he's lost another family member, what happened between the two of you?"

Shoulders sagging, Hermione couldn't decide if she was relieved or defeated by Ginny's observation. _At least she isn't on to the whole truth—and how could she? No one knows what happened back then, except the two of you._ She thought, and decided to let a defeated look cross her features.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. This situation is just too complicated to talk about right now, and I really do have to go. If you want, I'll try to explain tomorrow, before we leave. There's just one more thing I have to do." Before the girl could respond or try to stop her, Hermione tossed the Floo powder into the crackling brazier and was on her way.

He saw her hair before anything else. That thick, beautifully wild mane of dark hair that begged him to run his long fingers through it. He remembered the feeling of it now and felt blood rush through his entire body, heart pounding a million times in the mere moments for the rest of her impossible beauty to come through the fireplace. Surely he looked a sight, his pale face bright pink clashing with his light hair, his knuckles even whiter than usual gripping the ends of the table. Thankfully his seat in the far corner afforded him a clear view of the Floo network entrance while keeping in shadows.

He needn't hide so desperately, though. Tom had put up his cap for the night since business was slow, and Draco had restarted the fire just in case he wasn't wrong about Hermione and the night before. Seeing her now, he felt he'd never been so satisfied to be right before. She turned to face him as he smiled to himself.

_Perhaps though, it might be best to seem humble? She's risked a great deal to meet you, and you don't even know what it all means yet._ For the first time, the voice rang through his mind at the same time as he was actually with the woman it represented, and it was more clear the difference to him—this voice was younger, the lilt of a wise child but nothing more than that beyond. It was simply his memory playing tricks on him, after all. Hermione however, was now looking right at him, a look of confusion and surprise clearly furrowing her brow.

"What was that?" She asked, looking about her, and turning back to face him. "Did you hear that?"

Draco shook his head, a little concerned but decided to change the subject, "I didn't think you would come tonight."

Hermione scoffed and walked up to his table in the corner. "Don't lie to me, of course you did. You stoked the fireplace yourself, didn't you? After Tom left for bed."

"Well, I wasn't sure."

"Mhmm."

"So, why exactly did you come here?" Draco asked, remembering to loosen his grip on the table in front of him. "I'm not optimistic enough to assume it's to finish where we left off last night." He noticed her head turn down just slightly and her eyes avoid his when he mentioned their previous tryst.

"I came to say goodbye, and to warn you to stay away from me." She said, straightening her back, which made her breasts push forward through her robes magnificently. Draco was utterly captivated, unable to control his own body's reactions, or stop himself from looking even briefly, though he was still just as attracted to her face, and was able to turn his attention back to her deep brown eyes. When he did, her voice lost some of its strength and faltered at the end of her sentence.

Draco chose this moment to lift himself and, in one fluid motion, stood close enough to smell the very top of her hair from his height. Lilacs and honey. He checked his breathing. "Are you so sure that's what you want?" he allowed himself a small gesture, and brushed one long finger up and down her silky cheek once.

"I told you, I'm getting married to Ron. Molly and I have been talking about it and soon he'll—"

"Yes I remember. You sounded ecstatic over the idea when you told me, how could I forget?" His sarcasm would have bit into weaker girls, made them shrink away. Hermione was never such a girl. She'd been a woman with a backbone since the day they'd met.

"You don't get to judge him, or me!" She snapped. "You don't know what he's sacrificed, the loss he's gone through to get where we are today, none of that being any thanks to you!" The words hit him just as he expected them to, the crushing feeling in his chest cooling down the hormones for the time being, but he could tell that hers were heating up.

He glared at her, and set his mouth into a cold sneer. But he couldn't make his eye go all the way. "I did the things that I did because that's all that I knew. I may not have suffered the loss of a loved one, but I have suffered, thanks to you!" he sneered back, knowing it might hurt her to hear, but he needed to say them, to have her hear his story now.

And it had the desired effect. She stalled, her mouth moving as if to form words but no sound came out. Now it was time. Draco stepped into her and held her close, pressing her still body against his until he felt her stiffness soften a little.

"I want to forgive you, to move on from this Hermione. I _need_ to move on from this to become a better man than my father. But, I'm afraid to say that once again, I need your help, and to get that I need you to forgive me too."

"I can't forgive you for something that was partially my fault. I could have given you the choice to choose your family or me, but that seemed just too cruel." He voice broke even more when she mentioned family, and Draco wondered why.

He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face towards his. "I don't want forgiveness for my poor choices under the influence of money and power. I need you to forgive me asking for you to be my secret all those years ago. I wish I had never felt the need to hide how I feel from anyone, and that I'll never have to again." He bent and kissed her, allowing himself to feel everything now, her warmth and softness, and his ready eagerness to drown in it.

She pushed him away—not far, just enough so that she could speak. "But I told you I can't—"

He silenced her with another kiss. "Just for one night love. Just put everything behind for one night, and we can deal with the world in the morning. Come with me."

Hermione didn't argue, which surprised him until she saw the smouldering heat in her eyes. There was a need there, something that hadn't been met in a long time—he remembered the look from years with his mother in Paris, the way she had looked at her many escorts, the way many of her friends had looked at him. He shook off the horrible memories and focused on Hermione, leading her gently and calmly to his room, kissing her softly and teasingly along the way. She was in need, and he would help her with his skills which he wasn't foolish enough to be humble about.

Once they were inside and the door was closed, Draco guided Hermione to lit onto the edge of the bed. "I want to treat you as I should have a long time ago. You are a goddess and my goal is to make you feel like one." He whispered between kisses—she seemed less nervous when he was kissing her. But that had to continue only long enough to undress her.

Draco traced his fingers delicately over her stomach and ribs at first, lingering just under her breasts, and then cupping them from below. She seemed to freeze at first when he did this so Draco kissed her harder, leaning his body towards hers so that she could feel his body's reaction to her. When she relaxed again he began to circle her breasts with his fingernails, spiraling down until he reached the nipple, which made her moan underneath him and her back arched. The sound of her voice in this way made Draco even harder and he gasped a little, almost forgetting what he wanted out of tonight. He bent his head to nuzzle her breasts through her robes, taking the now hard nipples into his mouth through the fabric.

Hermione was very aroused now; he could smell it from his position between her breasts. With one hand, he gripped her leg and stroked it all the way up to her hips, then back down a little to stroke her though the cloth. Yes she was very wet now, but it wasn't enough. He decided not to use the mundane slowness and undress her fully with his hands like she was probably used to and often ruined the mood. Draco held up his wand from the table beside the bed and, hiding it from Hermione as best he could, vanished her robes altogether. Once again he had to concentrate instead of losing control at the sight of her amazing body—perky but full soft breasts, soft mound of dark hair nestled between her legs not enough to cover her pink wet lower lips. And her face, flushed in surprise made the effect even stronger.

Her reaction was exactly what he had expected. She gasped and started to squirm away, until draco pressed himself against her nakedness and kissed her until she was out of breath, his tongue sliding between her lips which she'd left open in her shock. He played with her tongue tirelessly while his hands roamed her body comfortably and slowly, with no more protests of any sort but only moans of pleasure and encouraging arching of her back whenever he brushed his palm wide against her nipples or pinched them.

Now Draco had her where he needed her. He stopped hissing her on the mouth and spread out to her cheeks, her throat, her shoulders—all the while massaging her back and rear gently with both hands. As he moved lower to her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, Hermione was breathing heavily and running her own hands through his hair and across his back. He rested one palm on her pubic area, just resting while he went to suckle her breasts. Her legs almost sprang open to welcome the touch, silently pleading for more.

"I can make you feel like unbelievable pleasure Hermione, and I intend to." Draco lifted his head and took his hand off of her—to her audible protest—and looked her in the eye. "But I need you to tell me this is what you want. I won't do anything to you that you can later argue I forced you. I'm sorry that I have to do this now, but I want to give you the option to leave and go back to your fiancée right now. Just tell me and I will return your clothing and we'll never speak of this again."

Hermione's eyes cleared from their lustre very quickly, and she studied him critically. She didn't seem shy about being naked in front of him, which he was surprised about. "I know how to say no, Draco. I do want you, in more ways than one. We can't see each other past tonight though, I can't put what's been worked for in danger because of us and our past. She held his hand and stared directly into his eyes, as if she could read his damaged soul. "Just tonight, and then I can forgive you, and we can say goodbye, finally. That's the agreement."

Draco swallowed hard. "I see. Alright then, just tonight. Should we seal it our traditional way? Once I've done my part and you've given me the forgiveness I desire, I leave you alone forever and the rings will melt away once it accepts it. Probably when Ron replaces it, which will lock me out of your life forever."

Flinching a little when he'd mentioned Ron, Hermione nodded, and Draco summoned her wand for her. It had been left on the floor rather than being vanished with her clothing, and so she hadn't been in danger of being without her strongest defense. She cast the spell on him and allowed Draco to repeat it on her. This time for some reason the rings were white gold, and he wasn't sure what it meant. He remembered mentioning something about preferring white gold when they'd first cast this spell, did the rings remember? Were these the same pieces of jewelry, summoned by magic rather than invented by the idea of a mutual agreement?

Looking down at the ring on his finger, and seeing the matching one on Hermione, Draco felt himself stirring even more strongly than ever. He kissed her and lay her back onto the bed, legs spread as before and as welcoming as ever for his touch. But it wasn't his fingers he wanted to play down there with.

He kissed, licked and nibbled his way down her stomach and hips, at first bypassing her lower mouth entirely, wanting to savour every morsel of her body and every small sound she made. On his way back up her legs though, he didn't hesitate to place a warm slow kiss on her lower lips, and then flick his tongue over her clit. Her reaction was so strong he struggled to control his own passion. It had been so long since he'd had the touch of a woman, but he'd learned over time to make it through to the most important point for his partner's maximum pleasure. He wasn't going to ruin this chance with Hermione by being over-excited.

As he licked and pushed his tongue as deep inside her as it would go, Hermione bucked and leaned forward to give him better access to her wet center, moaning loudly and completely unrestrained now.

"D-Draco!" She almost screamed as she was being lifted up and over the crest of pleasure; she sat up directly above him as he continues to lap her up, tasting her juices as they flowed freely as proof of her completion. After he was satisfied he had done enough, Draco released her and stretched out beside her, kissing her shoulder and giving her time to catch her breath.

"I-I've never... not that... strong before."

Draco smiled and reached back over to the small table for his wand. He conjured a glass and filled it with water. "Here, you'll need this, we're not done yet." He said, and watched her carefully while she drank. Once the glass was empty, Draco immediately began to massage and kiss her again, just as passionately as before.

"I said tonight, and I meant all night. You're not leaving this room until I've fully apologized, Hermione Granger." Draco said between kisses, and listened intently as Hermione melted back into another melody of her pleasure at his touch.

_It's going to be a long, good night._


End file.
